


You could use a good kiss

by Procrastinating_Me



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, เพราะรักใช่ป่าว | Why R U?: The Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, Fighter is still rich af, Fluff and Humor, Grumpy Tutor, Irritating droids, M/M, Outer Space, Sorry Not Sorry, There are spaceships, This is ridiculous, or more "annoying each other to lovers"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 02:35:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29464374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Procrastinating_Me/pseuds/Procrastinating_Me
Summary: Tutor jabs at the buttons to his left. He does not have the patience for this. He only agreed to take this job because he is desperate and the pay is ridiculously good. He still owes Jabba ฿1 million interest for the missed payments, let alone the original debt. The bounty hunter who had cornered him in an alley on Coruscant had made it very clear the Hutt was not prepared to wait any longer.So maybe he had accepted this job too quickly, maybe he’d not asked enough questions before he agreed. He had heard the number of zeros and that was all he needed.But, fuck, someone really should have told him about the cargo--------This story was inspired bythese photos of Saint,looking like an intergalactic fighter pilot.
Relationships: Fighter/Tutor (Why R U?: The Series)
Comments: 25
Kudos: 45





	You could use a good kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I started this months ago then abandoned it 'cos it was, frankly, ridiculous. It still is ridiculous. I wrote this for myself because it made me laugh, then I got some encouragement so ended up developing it. It's very silly and very indulgent, so please forgive me! I love Star Wars, but I am in no way an expert so please forgive the mistakes or inconsistencies. 
> 
> Anyway, if you're a fan of the original trilogy I hope this might also make you smile.

At the sound of the exaggerated cough behind him, Tutor whips his head around and glares at the man leaning in the door of his cockpit.

“What?” Tutor barks, as he turns his back on him again and smashes his closed fist down into the console. “Stupid fucking thing. Come on,” he shouts at the unresponsive control. 

“Would it help if I got out and pushed?” Fighter sneers from behind him. 

On the third smack of his fist, the lights flicker on and encouraging beeping noises dance all around him again.

“Aha,” Tutor shouts, triumphantly. 

"You and this ship are going to get us all killed," Fighter mutters. 

“I have to agree with his highness. May I suggest this ship needs some maintenance?” D3W, Fighter's gold droid, adds in a patronising tone.

“Get out,” Tutor bellows without turning around. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I lock you both in a cargo trunk.”

Fighter grumbles something under his breath and storms away with slightly less swagger than usual. D3W totters after him, struggling to keep up. 

Tutor hears Saifah laugh next to him. He spins to his right and fixes a stare on his 8ft tall hairy co-pilot as he raises his eyebrows, daring Saifah to continue. The response from the Wookiee is a series of sarcastic and mocking yowls. 

"And you can shut up too, Sai!" Tutor snaps, as he goes back to typing the coordinates into the now functioning console. "Okay, fine. Yes, he is good looking, but he's fucking irritating."

Saifah smirks knowingly to himself but keeps his mouth shut as he starts flipping switches on the controls above his head. 

Tutor jabs at the buttons to his left. He does not have the patience for this. He only agreed to take this job because he is desperate and the pay is ridiculously good. He owes Jabba ฿1 million interest for the missed payments, let alone the original debt. The bounty hunter who had cornered him in an alley on Coruscant had made it very clear the Hutt was not prepared to wait any longer. 

So maybe he had accepted this job too quickly, maybe he’d not asked enough questions before he agreed. He had heard the number of zeros and that was all he needed. But, fuck, someone really should have told him about the cargo. As a smuggler he was used to not asking questions about the "merchandise" - money, drugs, stolen treasures, he didn't want to know. Fuck it, even exotic animals had been stowed in hidden compartments of the Millennium Falcon over the last few years. But a human, smuggling people - this was new. 

And someone should _definitely_ have warned him how irritating this human cargo was. The spoiled rich kid he has just ejected from his flight deck is driving him up the wall. He is a Prince of some sort Tutor had gathered, but he has no idea on which world he is counted as royalty, or who his powerful family are. Tutor doesn't want to ask any more questions. That would involve having to make polite conversation with this Prince, _getting to know each other,_ and that isn’t Tutor’s style. 

But fuck, why does he have to look like that? 

When he'd found Fighter at the pick-up point, Tutor had stared for a second too long. He'd had a momentary lapse in his self-control as his eyes danced over the Prince's face, taking in his dark eyes, the tiny mole under the left one, and ridiculously expensive-looking teeth. And that was before he even glanced down and saw his physique. For a fleeting moment Tutor had wondered what that mouth would taste like, what those strong arms would feel like wrapped around his waist… 

But then Fighter had opened his mouth. 

"I thought you were supposed to be some famous smuggler, Tor." He'd stressed the name like Tutor was a child. "But you look like a grad student in the maths department." Fighter had smirked and Tutor wanted to punch that stupidly beautiful face. 

And now this Fighter Prince is swanning around his ship as if he owns it. He keeps touching things, moving things and trying to show off his (clearly basic) knowledge of engineering. And if he makes any more disparaging comments about how the ship looks like it was going to fall apart, calls the Millennium Falcon a “rust bucket” one more time, Tutor is going to push him into the airlock, release the external door and send that ridiculously good-looking man hurtling out into open space.

He runs through this satisfying scenario in his head but knows he’ll never do it. He needs the money. He cannot afford to lose this payment. He still owes so much on behalf of his family. The debt his father has racked up is barely decreasing with all the crazy interest. But delivering this Prince will give him some breathing space, allow him to be a bit more selective about jobs. Maybe he can find some easier jobs on the outer rim, away from The Empire, away from the constant attacks and firepower that keep coming his way when he takes the big payment risks. He needs a quiet few months. He needs some time off.

\---

After the jump into hyperspace Tutor offered to take the first shift at the control whilst Saifah goes to eat and shower. Tutor is half snoozing in his seat as the ship moves silently through great expanses of space, barely a tremor giving away the speed. Beautiful swirls of blue and purple dance around the window, but Tutor barely notices. He has seen this sight a thousand times in his career as a smuggler - it is best to use rare quiet moments like this to stop and rest. He cannot afford to waste time on the frivolity of star gazing.

Tutor is disturbed by the dull sound of footsteps behind him. Fighter gently clears his throat.

"How long will it take?" he asks softly. 

"Until what?" Tutor assumes he knows what Fighter is asking, but he refuses to make this easy for him. 

"Till we get to Yavin 4, obviously," Fighter snaps. He takes a deep breath. "Why do you have to be so difficult?" He pauses for a second and looks down at the cup of steaming coffee in his left hand. He thrusts it towards Tutor. 

"Here," he says and nods towards the cup. 

"You made me coffee?" Tutor says in surprise.

"Hmmm," Fighter hums, reluctant to agree. 

"I am surprised _your Worship_ even knows how to turn on the machine," he responds, wincing at quite how sharp it comes out. He really did intend that as a joke. 

"Fucks sake, Tor. I am trying to be nice." He turns suddenly and starts to leave mumbling under his breath. 

Tutor jumps up from his chair, rushing out his words. "Thank you, sorry." He reaches his hand out towards the cup. "I really need the caffeine." 

"I'm not totally useless, Tor," Fighter mumbles again looking sulky. 

Tutor takes a sip and sighs. It's actually really good, just the right amount of milk and only a hint of sugar. Just how he likes it. 

“Thank you,” he says, trying to sound sincere.

Fighter is frozen in the doorway, looking a bit lost now he has delivered the coffee. Tutor turns back to the console, checking the display. Fighter stares at the back of his head, then his eyes drift down Tutor's arm, landing on his slender fingers as they press at a couple of buttons. He shakes himself out of his slight trance and clears his throat. 

"Huh?" Tutor grunts having assumed Fighter had left. 

"How long?" Fighter reminds him of his original question. 

"Oh sorry," Tutor says with genuine remorse. "Yes. Erm…" He checks the display. "We should come out of hyperspace in nineteen hours. Then it's maybe another four or five hours." He pauses. "As long as we don't meet any trouble," he adds. 

"Are you expecting trouble?" Fighter says, the hint of worry clear though he is trying to sound nonchalant.

"Your type always attracts trouble."

" _My_ type?" Fighter is suddenly defensive. Tutor has turned round in his chair and is watching him now, looking him up and down critically. 

"Yeah, _Rebels_ ," he says sarcastically, gesturing towards Fighter. "Your sort, people who need to cause trouble, kick up a fuss."

Fighter's face contorts into a deep frown and he looks suddenly angry. 

"And someone like you? A smuggler, a drug runner, working for whoever'll pay the highest price. You're never in trouble?" 

"I just keep my head down." 

"So you'd rather The Empire be allowed to take over the entire galaxy?" 

"I didn't say that."

"But you don't care?" Fighter sounds horrified. 

"Look, I ain’t in this for your revolution and I’m not in it for you, Prince. I just look after myself." 

"Don't we know it?" Fighter scoffs and turns on his heel, leaving the cockpit. 

\---

Tutor wakes up with a start to the sound of the warning siren. A split second later, just as he is upright, the entire ship jolts so suddenly he has to hold onto the bunk to keep himself standing. He can hear Saifah yowling from the other end of the ship. He’d only managed an hour's sleep and something has gone wrong. What the fuck now?

As he dashes down the corridor, he sees Fighter coming out of the bathroom a couple of metres in front of him. His dark blue shirt is tangled up as he tires to wrestle his left arm into the sleeve. Tutor just has a second to wonder why the fuck the man decided to take off his clothes before his eyes land on Fighter’s exposed back, glistening with water droplets. Fighter must hear the thundering footsteps because he turns his torso and looks at Tutor; his chest is bare and his hair soaking wet. He reaches up a hand to brush the dark strands out of his eyes.

Shit. 

Not only has he got a beautiful face, but fuck, he’s got a ridiculously hot body. Tutor stops for a split second and can feel himself staring at Fighter’s smooth chest and well-defined abs.

The ship lurches again and Saifah’s howling is getting louder. Tutor has to concentrate on his feet to stay upright as he hears another set of warning beeps coming out of the ship's communication loop to his left. Luckily, when Tutor looks back, Fighter has put his shirt on properly and Tutor’s brain can focus on what the fuck has happened.

“I need you to move faster,” he shouts, as he almost crashes into the back of Fighter, “or just get out of my way.”

“Shit sorry, yes,” Fighter says, nimbly dipping into a doorway with surprising grace and leaving a clear path for Tutor to get to the action. Thankfully, as he runs through the main hold, he sees D3W in hibernation mode. At least that smart-arse droid won’t be bothering him this time.

As Tutor throws himself into the seat Saifah is barking explanations at him, something about the sublight engine losing power and the hyperdrive overheating. They had come crashing out of hyperspace and were frankly lucky not to have smacked straight into the closest star. The ship has steadied now but the deafening sirens haven’t stopped. Tutor starts punching buttons on the console in front of him.

“Are we being attacked?” Fighter asks from the doorway behind him. His voice sounds surprisingly calm. Tutor was expecting the Prince to freak out.

“Nope, just an engine being grumpy," he explains quickly, trying to play it down. At this moment he isn't sure if it is something minor, or possibly a total catastrophe. He decides on optimism. The Millennium Falcon never lets him down. Well, _never_ might not be entirely true. Rarely. 

"Which engine?" Fighter asks calmly. 

"What does it matter?" Tutor snaps and starts typing into the keyboard with his left hand and flicking switches above his head with his right hand. 

"Maybe I can help?" Fighter suggests, his voice almost sweet. 

A scoffing noise the erupts out of Tutor. "What on earth could _you_ do?" he asks, laughing. 

"You're pissing me off, Tutor," Fighter snaps. "Which engine?" he asks again, angrily this time. 

"The rear sublight engine.” Tutor pulls up the diagnostic programme on his computer. “That's the big engine looking thing at the back, by the way," he adds laughing at his own joke. He ignores Fighter and turns to Saifah. "Don't worry Sai, his Worship is going to fix it." His voice is dripping with sarcasm. 

There are a few moments where no one says anything, the only noise the incessant warning beeps. 

"Fuck you," Fighter spits out. He turns and grabs a toolbox as he storms down the corridor towards the back of the ship. 

"The problem's not down there though," Tutor shouts after him. "It's an issue with the controls which are…" his voice drops off as he points to the panel at his side. "...here. Ah fuck it, keeps him out of my way." 

Saifah lets out some more husky yowls from the co-pilot seat. His tone is reproachful. Why is he blaming Tutor? 

"I wasn't being mean," Tutor mumbles. "The guys a jerk." 

More yowls. 

"He is. He's so fucking full of himself. Just ‘cos he's rich and good looking. We don't all fall for that shit."

Even people who don’t speak Wookiee would be able to interpret the derisive snort that comes out of Saifah. 

"Shut up," Tutor snarls. He jabs his finger towards the display in front of his co-pilot. "You sort out that shit before we plummet into the nearest planet." 

The next five minutes are a blur of Saifah flicking switches and typing in code whilst Tutor kneels with his head buried in the control panel, unplugging and reattaching wires. 

There are more frustrated yowls from Saifah and he slams his fist on the arm of his seat. 

"What do you mean the power won't transfer? You must be doing it wrong, Sai."

Gruff defensive howls are shouted over the warning beeps.

"Well, if you were doing it right, that deafening noise would have stopped," Tutor shouts as he gets to his feet. Must he do everything? OK, so admittedly he wasn’t having much luck with the control panel, but Saifah had the easier job. 

He stands with his hand on Saifah's hairy shoulder, both of them staring at the display, motionless. For once Tutor is stumped and has to admit he has no idea what those numbers mean. His brain registers that they might actually be screwed this time - he may have run out of options. 

They are both still quiet and thoughtful when suddenly the alarm stops. There is a surprising silence for a few seconds before they hear the sound of the rear engine kicking in and the ship gently lurches forward.

Saifah makes a surprised and amused howl next to him.

"He didn't…" Tutor starts to say in disbelief. 

The Wookiee howls a name. 

"It _cannot_ have been that dumbass," Tutor says, glancing over his shoulder towards the rear of the ship. 

Saifah cannot contain his amusement and laughs loudly, nodding. 

"I don't believe it," Tutor mumbles, his resolve crumbling. He is struggling to find any other explanation. Both he and Saifah hadn't been doing anything when the warning messages finally stopped and the engines kicked back to life. 

He feels a long arm against his back and the Wookiee pushes him towards the door. Reluctantly he takes the hint and heads to the back of the ship to investigate. What he finds surprises him.

Fighter is lying on his stomach; the engine access panel is off and an array of tools are spread on the floor around him. Fighter's head and right arm are buried in the gap, only his broad shoulders are visible. Tutor tries desperately not to look at Fighter's strong upper back but then realises this means his eyes have drifted down and landed on the curve of his arse, visible against his tight trousers. 

He drags his eyes up and stares at the wall above the prostrate form, waiting patiently as Fighter feels around blindly for a wrench with his left hand. He finds it and passes it to his other hidden hand. A quiet, triumphant "aha" can be heard.

Tutor smiles to himself. Ok, this has taken an unexpected turn. Maybe this Prince isn't quite as useless as he thought.

Tutor has been standing there silently for a few minutes when the mop of black hair finally emerges out of the hole. Fighter sits up, reattaches the panel's cover and turns to tidy up the tools. He visibly jumps when he finally notices Tutor watching him. 

Fighter's face is flushed pink, his hair sticking up and there is a dark smear of engine grease across his left cheek. Tutor has to fight back the urge to lean forward to wipe it off.

Fuck. 

Fuck. He looks cute. 

Tutor just stares. He needs to say something, this is getting awkward. 

“The words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’, Tor,” Fighter says smugly as he bends down to put the tools away. There is a definite smirk on his face, like he knows he has surprised Tutor.

It instantly winds Tutor up. What is this guy’s problem?

“Beginners’ luck, don’t get cocky,” Tutor responds.

“What is your problem, Tor?” Fighter demands. So it appears they both have a problem.

“As if a Prince like you knows anything about 30-year-old engines,” he scoffs. “You got lucky with a loose connection.” 

Fighter’s nostrils are beginning to flare now. He looks furious. He proceeds to explain, in what Tutor must admit is accurate detail, exactly how he had fixed the engine. Ok so maybe the Prince might know what he is talking about. But Tutor refuses to give this rich arsehole the satisfaction so he just rolls his eyes dismissively. 

“Just admit you don’t know a thing about me,” Fighter snaps, voice rising.

“You’re a _Prince_.” The way Tutor stresses the word conveys all his feelings of anger, annoyance at the unfairness of the world, conclusion that Fighter was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and never worked a day in his life. Unlike Tutor, who works every hour he can, takes huge risks with his life, can never stay anywhere long enough to form any connection, just has this ship and his family’s debt.

“So what?” Fighter practically shouts. “I still got an Engineering degree from Chemistry University, on Corellia. And I clearly have a better understanding of engines than you two,” he gestures toward the flight deck.

“Hhhmm,” Tutor says, unconvinced.

Suddenly Fighter surges forward and in a split second his nose is practically touching Tutor’s. He is staring with a curious intensity in his eyes. Instinctively Tutor takes a step back but the wall behind him stops his progress.

“Seriously, what is your problem?” he snaps at Fighter.

“ _My_ problem?” Fighter asks slowly as he steps forward again and presses Tutor against the wall, “you’re the one with some sort of issue. Why do you have to be such a jerk all the time, Tor?” He leans his face in closer barely blinking but his eyes are searching over Tutor’s face.

Fighter hand slams against the wall beside his head making him jump and Tutor can feel the hot breath against his lips as Fighter leans in even closer. 

**Author's Note:**

> I think there will be at least one more chapter. 
> 
> This is the first AU I've ever written, so please leave me comments or feedback. 
> 
> As always, thanks to ItsHoney for being beta-extraordinaire


End file.
